


Getting Our Hitter

by SweetVennum64



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:00:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetVennum64/pseuds/SweetVennum64
Summary: “Do you think Eliot likes us?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first time posting work to this platform so be patient with me, give me a chance. This will be a multi chapter fic. Let me know what you all think!

Hardison wanted the impossible.

Well, for him, there was _very_ _little_ that could be classified as impossible. Age of the Geek, and all that.

But his level of expertise fell in the realm of technology, not people.

Ask him to hack the Pentagon servers and you need to step back and give him some elbow room because he's gonna whip some security encryption ass.

Ask him to flirt? Or blend in with a bunch of jocks? You might as well stick a fork in him because he'd be fried and done.

So when it came to Parker, the strangest, most quirky, out of the ordinary, stand alone human being he had ever met, and she wasn't the least bit self conscious about any of it, he admired it on a level so deep that he was hers from the start.

Parker has this thing where she doesn't understand boundaries or personal space, which is totally fine with Hardison.

He loves it when Parker randomly starts climbing him like a tree to wrap her legs around his waist yelling "Giddyup!"

Or when she gives him what she calls happy kisses (usually on his elbows because, you know, funny bone) or on his ears because according to Parker, everybody knows ears are happy, and other random places that no one would think to kiss.

One time she kissed his kneecap when she'd kicked him a little too hard during one of their sparring practices because she thought his knee went too wibbly wobbly.

Everyone would feel damn lucky and damn happy to have Parker all up in their business like that.

Everyone except Eliot. Or so he'd thought.

Eliot only lets himself enjoy Parkers affections (or anyones affections for that matter) on very rare occasions.

When they'd finally convinced Parker to leave the rehab facility with Hurley, she'd run straight up to Eliot and jumped into his arms. And instead of him scowling and holding her off like he usually does, he'd actually ducked down a bit and caught her with one arm, let her wrap both her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and giggle in his ear how much she'd missed him.

"When do the happy pills wear off?" He'd asked, but the look in his eyes betrayed him.

Or when Hardison got...and he can't even bare to say it.

They put him in a coffin, damnit!

The way Eliot let him wrap both arms around his middle and bury his face in his neck because they'd come for him. They'd _saved_ him

"Man don't do that again! Don't _do_ that again!" He remembers Eliot whispering angrily in his ear because how dare Hardison get himself kidnapped and buried alive in a cemetary and make Eliot...feel things.

While Parker just takes what she wants and accepts Eliot's answering response, good or bad, with no hard feelings, Hardison takes those little moments where Eliot lets the wall drop and tucks them away in his heart because while he fell for Parker almost immediately, Eliot crept up on him like the grumpy, punchy, emotionally unbalanced lurker that he is.

And Hardison thinks he's a little bit in love with their Hitter.

Yeah, he can be patient with Parker. He knows she'll come around on her own terms and that's completely okay with him. She's already giving him more than enough with all her piggy back rides and implied 'I love you's' in the form of full body bear hugs and...pretzels.

But Eliot? Eliot makes him feel that bottom of your belly, sour burn of want when he stands just inside Hardison's personal space and all Hardison wants to do is lean in that much closer so that they're touching but he can't because...Eliot.

Or when Hardison wants to show him something on the computer and Eliot leans over his shoulder, so close that his hair tickles the side of his face, calloused fingertips brushing against Hardison's neck when he leans in closer to catch what Eliot calls Hardison's geek spiral when he gets too excited about the technical stuff.

Hundreds of light touches and close encounters that drive Hardison mad with desire and never enough full body contact.

And it's not just a physical thing either. Never has been. Not when it comes to Eliot or Parker.

Hell, if that was the case Hardison would have been finished a long time ago.

While he and Parker have gotten a little hinky here and there, they still haven't put a label on anything or made things...official...if you can catch his drift.

But what he loves more than that, is that she gets all starry eyed and dreamy when he tells her stories about his NaNa. That she says she wants to meet his NaNa. She trusts him enough to cry in front of him and she wants to learn hacker things and she wants to teach him thief things and she protects him and cares for him and she's just. Amazing.

And it may be selfish but he can't help it. He wants that with Eliot too because Eliot protects him too. Puts his life on the line for him. Would _kill_ for him.

Logically Hardison knows that you don't do that for someone unless you love them but would it hurt for Eliot to let him at least show him how grateful he is to have him at their backs? Or let him tape up his bloody knuckles? Massage his tired muscles?

Day after day he watches Eliot limp back to the apartment, his hand hovering over his ribs after putting himself between his team and the opposition.

Watches him flip the bathroom light on, looking down at his shaking hands covered in blood before he slams on the tap and washes his sins down the drain.

Watches as Eliot slowly strips his dirty tshirt up and over his head and into the hamper behind the bathroom door. The muscles in his back and neck ripple under sweaty skin as he stretches.

And Hardison wants all of him in every conceivable way possible. Mind, Body, Soul.

He's not sure if he could ever really tie a man like Eliot down. He's not even sure if Eliot would be into that sort of thing. In the two years that they've been working as a team he's never really seen Eliot show the slightest amount of interest in anyone, male or female, unless they were a mark.

Hardison has always known that his attraction to the human race comes from mental, emotional, and physical connection...not sexual oreintation.

But he has never been gut punched with the _love_ - _gratitude_ - _fluffy_ - _dirty_ ball of mixed up emotions that he feels for Eliot.

He was beginning to think that maybe Eliot just wasn't capable of letting his walls down. Or that he just didn't want to. Not even for them.

Or maybe he'd caught Hardison staring too long when he'd come in the house shirtless and breathless after a long run and he didn't want Hardison to get the wrong idea so he remained extra gruff with him.

But then again. Hardison has never been that good at reading people.

They'd just gotten back to Nates place after taking down Damien Moreau in San Lorenzo so maybe Eliot had just been in an unusually not so grumpy mood that day.

Eliot tossed his coat on the rack by the door before he grabbed a beer from Nates fridge and hopped over the back of the sofa to settle while Hardison put football on the giant eighty-inch screen hanging on the wall.

Hardison had been fiddling with the remote but he looked up just in time to see Parker coming up behind Eliot with her giant bowl of celebratory Fruit Loops in one hand and that dazed smile she always got on her face when they'd pulled off an impossible con that she was sure would get them killed.

When she was standing right behind Eliot where he lounged on the couch she let her free hand slip into the layers of hair at the back of his head and closed them into a fist.

And Parker wasn't done. Nope. Because when is Parker ever done?

She uses the grip she has on Eliot's hair to yank his head back so he's looking at her upside down now, his throat fully exposed and Hardison can hear a low growl rumbling in his chest.

She ignores all the warning signs and simply bends down and kisses him lightly, right in the middle of his forehead. Quick and stealthy, just like her. Her mouth probably sticky and sugary from the crunchy bowl of diabetes she's still clutching in her left hand.

"Thanks for protecting us, Eliot." She says, light and airy like she does when she's fascinated by something.

And then she untangles her fingers from his hair and hops up onto the arm of the loveseat, perching there like a house cat, smiling as she shovels another spoonfull of drippy rainbows into her mouth.

All of this happens within a matter of 3 seconds, tops, but to Hardison it was like watching an hour long documentary on the nature channel of a lion tackling a gazelle.

And he's not even sure who the lion would be in this particular scenario because while he's used to Eliot overreacting when anyone gives him any sort of affection, physically or otherwise, what he is not used to is the fact that Eliot is blushing, blotchy red spots on his cheeks and all the way down to disappear behind the open collar of his shirt and Hardison wonders if his hand would come back burned and blistered if he were to touch Eliot there.

Eliot almost looks like he wants to be annoyed with himself for being pleased by what just happened but can't make his face agree with the emotion.

His mouth is open and his lips are wet because he keeps licking them over and over.

His eyes look slightly dazed and confused and angry and behind all of that Hardison thinks he sees...heat. Eliot's eyes were lower, darker...hungrier, and it made Hardison feel equal parts terrified and mesmerized because this isn't the first time Parker has given Eliot surprise kisses.

He usually does the "Damn it, Parker! Knock it off!" bit, while furiously wiping at whatever part of his body Parker had decided to violate.

So what changed this time? What had Parker done differently to short circuit Eliot? He needed to find out because that small glimpse of surprised arousal from Eliot made him want to watch even closer. Hardison wanted to see more.

"Do you think Eliot likes us?"

They're swinging in the hammock Parker fastened to the ceiling below the ten foot skylight Hardison put in for her.

Usually Parker liked to sit on the edge of 50 story buildings and stare at the stars and the horriffically scary drop to the ground when she was feeling introspective but if he was going to keep being her supporting shoulder during these times they had to come to a compromise.

"Parker. Of course Eliot likes us. What makes you think he doesn't?" She's got her body plastered to his with her head tucked under his chin so he can't read her face. Not that seeing Parker's face would help in the first place, but, he just really likes her face.

She exhales, tangling the neck of his tshirt between her fingers. "He doesn't like touching. Or happy kisses."

Hardison smiles at that. "I'm not sure many people know what happy kisses are, Parker. And don't you remember? At first you didn't like the touchy feely stuff either. You just gotta give him time."

"Eliot is a hard lock to fiddle."

He chuckles. "Yes he is."

She sits up suddenly, making the hammock swing hard enough to have him gripping the edges nervously.

"Oooh! Can you hack him?" And she's being all squirmy.

"Park- Parker. I know you're cool with the twenty foot drop to the floor but I'd like to stay put for now."

She stills immediately. "Oh. Sorry."

"All is forgiven."

And now that the hammock has stopped trying to kill him, he lets go of the sides to wiggle his fingers at her. "I got the magic fingers, babe. But I can't hack a Hitter."

"But you hacked a potato that one time. Just pretend Eliot is our potato."

The way her mind works amazes him sometimes. "How about I start with talking to him first?"

She scrunches her nose. "Hmmm. Not as fun as potato hacking but okay."

She shrugs and resettles herself against his side with her head on his chest and exhales.

"You know what I'm in the mood for?...pretzels!

" _Heeeeey_." He sing songs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out. Hardison needs to work on his communication skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter two. I hope y’all enjoy. I don’t have a beta but I would like one if anyone is interested. Until then, all mistakes are my purely my own.

He'd promised Parker that he would talk to Eliot.

Why did he promise Parker that he would talk to Eliot?

His social etiquette is sketchy at best so making his first best attempt at bettering his human social skills by talking to an Army Special Ops agent with serious interpersonal skills is probably a bad idea.

Parker makes him do very, very stupid things sometimes.

Apparently, Eliot makes him do stupid things too because why else would he be trying to seduce him (is he seducing Eliot right now?) with a request for some combat training in their basement gym because sweat and no shirts and punching seem like those are things that would be turn ons for Eliot.

Granted, Hardison thinks that the sweat should be dripping down a set of full, supple breasts instead of his bulky man chest for Eliot to be properly aroused, and again, why didn't Parker take on this particular task? She's the one with the supple breasts, after all.

"Since when do you wanna learn to fight, man? What? Your little keyboard fingers not doin' it for you anymore?"

And Eliot's standing in front of him shirtless, which, by the way, does not help the situation as far as Hardison is concerned. And his cotton shorts hug him a little too tight because apparently Eliot hoards things like a...well...like a hoarder, which explains why he's wearing his high school wrestling shorts with the school logo stamped on the side and his dick straining at the fabric on his crotch.

"Look, man. I'm tired of watching you take all the punches while I sit in Lucille, okay? You ever think the Hacker wanted a lil' action too, Eliot? Huh? Look at me, man. I'm made for punchin' folks...and keyboards...so...do your thang, Eliot. Mold me, Eliot. _Teach_ _me_ , Eliot."

To Hardison's delight, Eliot actually gives him a slow once over. His eyes roaming his bare torso, down to his grey sweats, hanging loose on his waist. He's got an amused glint in his eyes that makes butterflies open and flutter in Hardison's chest.

And Eliot. Well Eliot looks like he's got a few things in mind and Hardison is so down with that concept.

He watches as Eliot goes through several senarios in his mind before adjusting his stance and raising his fists, licking his lips as his eyes go darker. He looks Hardison straight in the eyes. "Square up." And his grin is down right predatory.

Hardison tries to hold back the rush of waves struggling to fight their way up his spine and he thinks he does a damn good job, and moves to mirror Eliot's stance. "Whatcha got for me?"

Eliot studies him for a beat while Hardison fights not to squirm.

"Now. The key is to watch my shoulders, not my hands, okay?" And he waits for Hardison's nod before continuing.

"The shoulders tell you where the hit is coming from."

And he demonstrates this by stepping forward, throwing a hard right hook at Hardison before pulling it at the last minute before his fist connects with the smooth contour of his jaw.

"Whoa! What the hell, man?" And Hardison damn near trips over nothing as he tries to block the punch that never lands.

"What?! You think your attacker is gonna warn you before he strikes?" He's not! Pay attention." He steps back, raises his fists once more. "I ain't pullin' punches next time. Now. Let's go again."

Ok, yeah, he has a point. Hardison has let the fact that he's friends with a semi-reformed killer make him sensitive to the fact that other not so reformed killers won't protect his naivety. Other killers will...kill him.

That's a little bit of an eye opener.

His love for Eliot has made him blind to real danger in a sense.

And he's not stupid enough to say Eliot isn't dangerous because Eliot has killed people with pencils, allegedly.

But he's gotten comfortable with the fact that Eliot's wrath is not directed _at_ him, but to protect him. Eliot has become his own personal security system at will, and he let himself get complacent with that.

Not a good look. Especially if he wants to continue to be an asset to his team.

He nods his understanding. Readjusts, and signals for Eliot to continue.

This time when Eliot throws a hard jab at him, he puts his arm up for the block, wincing because, damn, even though Eliot is a _monster,_ he actually dodged the hit _._

"Good. That's good, man." And Eliot gives him a pat on his shoulder and Hardison can't help his answering grin, bouncing back and forth on his toes.

Eliot tries to use that moment of distraction to take him down with a surprise low kick to the legs but Hardison catches it, using the momentum to tackle him before he can stand up straght, effectively pinning Eliot to the floor with his hand gripping his neck.

He feels Eliot's moan rather than hearing it. Feels it vibrate against his hand where he's got it wrapped around Eliot's throat. The heat in his eyes as he stares up at Hardison is unmistakable and Hardison decides to push his luck.

Give Hardison an inch? He's gonna take the whole damn grid.

He moves to straddle Eliot, hovering above him but still not touching other than the hand pinning him to the ground.

He bends down until his face is mere centimeters from Eliot's. "How you like me now?" His voice is dirty and he thinks he pulls off the sly grin well enough.

Eliot confirms this a half second later when he honest to God _whines_ , his breath coming out heavy and warm against Hardison's skin.

Again, Hardison is unbalanced because he can't get a _read_ on Eliot. He'd half expected Eliot to break his nose for the smart ass comment but instead, he's just laying there, pliant and easy, open and clearly enjoying himself. It makes Hardison's stomach dip and roll because Eliot is being submissive. The things this does to Hardison's insides should be illegal.

Then he wraps his hand around Hardison's wrist, leaning his head back just a bit to give him more access.

"Your positioning is all wrong." His voice is raspier and Hardison chews on the insides of his cheeks because he wants to take that voice and burn it on a CD and play it over and over again.

"You gotta place your thumb on my trachea." He moves Hardison's hand up and to the left where he wants it. "Right...there." And he lets out a shaky exhale. "Now squeeze."

Hardison's hand is shaky with nerves now and he can feel the delicate _thump_ , _thump_ , against his fingers now that Eliot has put him there but he still tightens his grip just a little, and watches as Eliot's eyes slip closed, hissing through his teeth.

"Yeah...now you've got me where you want me."

His hair is curling like it does when he sweats or when he gets...um..wet, sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face. Every part of him is flushed and hot and his chest is heaving. His knuckles are white where he's still gripping Hardison's wrist hard enough to bruise.

God he wants there to be bruises. Evidence that Eliot was there.

When Eliot opens his eyes again his pupils have almost eclipsed the sea of blue, a storm. And Hardison shivers, hard.

A spark flashes in Eliot's eyes like he knows exactly what he's doing but its gone so fast that Hardison's not sure if he imagined it.

"What should I do with you now?" Hardison whispers.

Eliot licks his lips and doesn't miss the way Hardison's eyes track the movement of his tongue. "Whatever you want."

Eliot is not playing fair. Is he doing this shit on purpose?

Hardison is so lost in his own thoughts that he barely even registers when Eliot bucks, flips them so that Hardison is now flat on his stomach with his face pressed to the floor, one arm pinned behind his back with Eliot blanketing him.

" _Bang_. You're dead." Eliot whispers against his ear before releasing him and standing.

Hardison takes a moment, breathing heavily before he rolls over onto his back, staring up at Eliot, who's got his arms crossed over his chest, crooked grin on his lips.

Cocky son of a bitch.

"You cheated." Hardison's breath still coming heavy.

Eliot stands over him and bends down. "There ain't rules in war, Hardison. You win by any means." His eyes go serious then. He lowers one hand and Hardison grips it tightly, allows Eliot to bring him up to standing position.

They stand there for a beat breathing each others air. Letting the silence grow heavier and more infected with the things they want to say but shouldn't say because they're already so bruised as it is, why cut each other open? Love can only handle so much damage.

But Hardison has always been a rebel. Going for what he wants, consequences be damned. Plus. He'd promised Parker.

So he exhales slowly before swiping his hand across is face, brushing away the sweat dripping into his eyes.

"Eliot..." He takes a half step forward so that he can feel the warmth radiating off of Eliot's body now. Close enough that he can read the anticipation and hesitation in equal measures in his eyes.

"Eliot. I-"

And Eliot clears his throat loudly, startling Hardison into silence. Mouth hanging open with words unspoken.

"That's enough for the day. Eliot speaks low, commanding and leaving no room for argument. He takes a half step back, rebalancing the distance Hardison had disrupted. "I'm gonna go grab a shower." He pats him high on his back. "Good work today."

Hardison lets the echo of Eliot's hand against his shoulder blades sizzle and imprint deep into his bones before he mutters a "Yeah...thanks..." and then remembering that wait, shit, there is a mission here.

"Hey...um. Eliot?"He's already almost at the door before Hardison's voice stops him. He turns slightly, catching Hardison's eyes.

"You wanna, um, I dunno. Grab a beer later? I. ah...I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

He watches as Eliot's eyes go guarded and wonders what the hell he's thinking. He wishes he had some pliers. He'd pin Eliot down again and pluck every thought from his mind because he's starting to get whiplash here.

"Uh...yeah, sure. I guess." And his gaze moves to the floor for an instant before meeting Hardison's eyes again. "Just lemme clean up and I'll let you know, alright?" He's got his mask on again and Hardison is skeptical. Rethinking this whole thing.

But he doesn't break his promises.

"Alright, man." He sighs and turns away from Eliot, heading upstairs to his own place, pretends his heart doesn't sink into his stomach when he hears Eliot shut the door behind him, his heavy steps echoing down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my Leverage OT3 family is still out there! Chapter 3 is up. I hope you enjoy. Reviews are more than welcomed, encouraged, even.

They're on a job. Eliot is the bait because he's the marks type and because Hardison needs to be the computer guy.

"Why can't I be the bait?" Parker's voice echoes through his earbud. She's crawling through the air vent at Cheshire Luxury Suites headed for Jason McIntyre's suite to do some recon while Eliot has him distracted at the auction in the downstairs ballroom. "I'm getting really good at not stabbing people now."

"Sofie's taught you well, babe." He's a little distracted watching Eliot on the hacked ballroom camera feed. He swivels his chair toward the thermal cooler he'd bought special for Lucille and grabs an orange soda before he turns back toward the monitors. "But you're not exactly Jason's type, Parker."

He taps a few keys on the wireless keyboard in his lap to zoom in on Eliot. He's got his hair pulled back in a ponytail, a few stray strands falling on his forehead and over the lense of his wire rimmed glasses. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up to his elbows to expose his muscled forearms. The Duometre watch and black link bracelets he'd borrowed from Parkers thief collection gleam brightly from his wrists, even on the shitty camera feed. The black trousers he's wearing are tailor made for his body and Sophie had to damn near wrestle the man into them which is such a shame because the man looks like a goddamn Greek God standing on the side of the stage, stance loose and relaxed with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Parker's voice sounds in his ear again and he startles, thankful that he's the only one in the van to witness as his hand comes up to swipe at the bit of drool in the corner of his mouth.

"But the description in his file said that he goes for athletic men with long hair and expensive tastes."

He can hear the faint beep of a keypad and assumes she's made it to the room and is now cracking the safe. "Parker... _men_ is the key word here. And unless you got something you need to share with the class, I repeat, you are not his type."

She huffs. "Oh please. I've been with two men, and only one of them had a penis. I could do it."

Eliot groans in his ear and Hardison can see him pinching the bridge of his nose from the monitor. "Dammit, Parker."

And Hardison doesn't have time to touch that particular argument with a ten foot pole because they're calling Eliot to the stage next. Well, actually they're calling Ethan Jeffries to the stage and Hardison has to pat himself on the back for that particular alias because creating it took up too much of his World of Warcraft time and with the way Jason has had his eye on Eliot all night, the time was worth it.

Jason McIntyre is a 63 year old man who's spent most of his adult life frequenting charity auctions and bidding on attractive middle aged men with long bloodlines of rich mommies and daddies only to have his way with them, drug them, and clean out their accounts before the next days sunrise.

"Okay, got all his records and the stolen identities. I'm heading back your way...ooohh, _diamonds_."

He knows she's got that scary maniacal grin on her face even though he can't see her and he knows its pointless to try to talk her out of it.

"Okay, Parker." And he uses his best placating tone. "Eliot's on stage now so Jason will be bringing him back to the room any minute now. Rob the man blind for all I care. Just get back here before they get there."

She giggles in his ear and he can't help but smile. That woman is a gift to the world.

He moves over to his laptop and pulls up Jason's off shore accounts and transfers the stolen $70,000,000 into the Leverage Corporate account so that he can divide it up between Jason's eighty-something victims when they're safely behind the walls of their offices.

"Parker, don't forget to put the mini cam in his room."

"Got it." She says.

"Okay, Eliot. I got his accounts. Just stand there and look sexy, you got him hooked, man."

Parker comes bursting into the van then, grinning wide when she tosses her duffle bag down full of...probably everything of value this guy owns. "Whoo!" She grabs a chocolate bar from Hardison's stash before plopping down on top of her bag of stolen goods. "That was fun! How's Eliot doing?"

He turns his attention back to the monitor. "El...Eliot! You look like a hit man! Relax your posture, man! You gonna scare him off!"

Eliot growls in his ear and it makes his belly swoop but he watches as Eliot uncrosses his arms and unclenches his face. "Good. That's perfect. Now give him some eye contact."

He hears Eliot's frustrated huff. " _Hardison_." And he knows its meant to scare him into shutting up but it just doesn't have the same effect on him as it used to. He doesn't necessarily enjoy getting under Eliot's skin, but, he's not necessarily opposed to it either.

From the feed, he watches as Eliot removes his glasses and slips them into his pocket before making direct eye contact with the mark. He lifts his eyebrows and licks his lips slow. Hardison can't help mirroring his action, exhaling through his nose.

"Hmm. Eliot's getting good at grifting too." He hears Parker behind him, her voice light and airy.

"Yeah..." Comes his response, his throat clicking as he swallows.

Jason ends up bidding nearly $50,000 for Eliot that he doesn't have thanks to Hardison's stellar hacking skills, and grins dirty at Eliot as he takes his hand and leads him upstairs to his suite.

Eliot's posture looks stiff to Hardison's eyes but with the way Jason is undressing him with that pervy leer, Hardison is sure he doesn't pick up on it as he watches him lead Eliot toward the exit and they disappear out of the open ballroom doors.

After a few minutes they both come into view on Hardison's second monitor when they make it to Jason's room.

"Um, you mind if I go freshen up?"

Parker and Hardison both give each other pleased looks when they hear Eliot's _very_ uncharacteristic soft, and, Jesus, _shy_ tone as he talks to Jason.

He points Eliot to the first door on the right and they hear his shaky exhale when he enters the bathroom and shuts the door.

"Okay, Hardison. You got eyes on me?"

"Yeah...um, yeah, Parker set up the cams while you were in the ballroom. Eliot, he's old school, man. He'll probably offer you a spiked drink or somethin'"

"Parker get the files?"

Hardison grins at Parker. "She got everything."

"Alright so whats the plan?"

"Just get him to drop his guard, then do what you do best. I got the rest."

"Alrght."

The comms go quiet as Eliot exits the bathroom. They watch on the planted cameras when Jason rushes him before he can fully enter the main room. His hand fists in the collar of Eliot's shirt and he pins him to the wall and they're nose to nose.

"I've been watching you all night, you know that?" The cadence in Jason's voice hints at an Italian background.

"Is that right?"

Hardison zooms the camera and watches Eliot's chest heave as he breathes heavily. The guy, Jason, steps further into Eliot's space pressing against him from stomach to thigh and he hears Eliot's low grunt in his ear.

"Absolutely." And the way the guys tongue curls around the word makes it come out filthy against Hardison's ear.

Eliot leans in closer. "Well you won me...what are you gonna do with me?"

Hardison feels Parker's heat when she slides up next to him on her knees to peer at Eliot on the monitor. And neither of them are breathing.

"Fuck." Jason whispers against Eliot's lips before he reaches to pull Eliot's hairtie from his hair and shoves his fingers into the thick strands to yank his head back, licking a long wet line from Eliot's exposed collar bone and up to the sensitive spot behind his ear.

If Hardison's eyes hadn't been glued to the screen he would have missed the way Eliot's knees buckled a bit before Jason pushed forward, keeping him upright with his hips. There is no way, however, that Hardison could have missed Eliot's agonized moan in his ear and he has to covertly press his palm down against his crotch because that sound went straight to his dick.

"Wow...Eliot's... _really_ good at this." Parker whispers against his other ear and he offers a pleased grunt in response.

"You like it rough, huh?" Jason's murmuring into Eliot's earbud.

Eliot is panting into everybody's ear when he whines. "Yes...please..."

And it all hits Hardison like a ton of bricks. Parker fisting Eliot's hair and yanking his head back to place a kiss on his forehead, Eliot's pupils blown wide. Hardison pinning Eliot to the mat with a hand at his throat during their sparring practice and Hardison feeling the rumble of Eliot's deep moan against his palm.

Eliot likes to be dominated. Holy shit, why didn't he see it at first. If his online human studies course had anything to say about it, most hard ass, overly butch, control freaks like to be tied up. And if that doesn't get Hardison to full on tenting his jeans then he doesn't know what does. And judging by the way Parker's fingernails are currently digging into his bicep, she's figured it out too.

So operation Get Our Hitter is a go, apparently.

* * *

After Eliot has properly rendered the mark unconscious and Hardison has planted the evidence and triggered the FBI alerts, they clean up all evidence of their presence and haul ass before anyone knows what hit them.

It was all too easy and Hardison can feel the satisfaction in the room as he looks around at his crew. Nate and Sophie are plastered together and smiling before they bid their goodbyes and head out for the night. He can't help the dopey grin on his face when he looks over to see Parker poking at the hickey Jason left on Eliot's neck and Eliot is doing a half hearted attempt at slapping her fingers away.

He gets up and grabs an orange soda from the fridge and one of his custom brews for Eliot, passes it to him before sitting next to him, effectively sandwiching him between himself and Parker on the couch.

Most of the time Eliot heads straight to his own apartment to patch up his wounds in private after a con, but on rare occasions Eliot will hang around, get drunk and indulge Hardison when he plays his latest sci-fi fantasy movie on the tv. Hardison feels like it will be one of those nights and his gut is heavy with anticipation because Eliot usually lets him get away with the touchy-feely stuff on nights like that.

He's sitting close to Eliot, not pushing his luck just yet, but their shoulders brush when Eliot readjusts, slouches more into the cushions and spreads his legs the way he does when Hardison's brew starts to settle in his blood and make him pliant.

Parker's slouched on Eliot's other side with her head resting on the arm of the couch and her legs folded up, her toes brushing against Eliot's thigh. Her eyes are low while she watches Star Trek on the big screen and Hardison knows she's about ready to head out.

Although Hardison knows Parker likes their company and she enjoys spending time with them and he wishes she would stay the night sometimes, he knows she can only deal with human contact in small doses at a time and on her terms. He respects that and takes what she offers when she gives it because she's slowly been letting her guard down and he knows Parker is not to be rushed.

"This is ridiculous, man. I don't know why I let you suck me into this." Eliot sounds like he's trying to be disgruntled but his tone takes on a fondness that makes Hardison smile as he watches Eliot scowl at the tv screen.

"Come on, Eliot. Stop fightin' it." And he nudges Eliot's shoulder with his own, if only an excuse to get closer to him.

Eliot rolls his eyes but allows him to stay pressed against his side.

"Hey!" Parker frowns and nudges Eliot's leg with her toes. "Respect the geek!"

"My girl." Hardison gives her a wink and she smiles at him before she sits up, yawns loud and heavy.

"Okay, I'm done with family movie night." She stands and tugs her shirt down. "Eliot, pancakes tomorrow okay?"

He looks up at her, a grin playing on his lips. "Yeah, Yeah."

She bends down and kisses him on his cheek. "Blueberry this time, no banana." She kisses Hardison on his chin before hopping over the couch and out the kitchen window.

Hardison chuckles, eyes still on the movie playing on the tv. "Twenty pounds of crazy..."

"Five pound bag." Eliot finishes.

Hardison spares a glance at him then. He looks content and happy with a lazy grin on his face and Hardison's insides liquify. Eliot holds so much strength and takes on the world for them and he never asks for anything in exchange and when he just allows himself to just enjoy the little things like movies and beer and family it just makes Hardison want to keep him there forever. Sitting blissfully in the peace of no chaos. No cons.

His hands are resting low on his belly and Hardison thinks he can map out the calloused skin on his knuckles with his tongue if Eliot would let him. He licks his lips and bumps Eliot's knee with his own. "You did a hell of a job today, man."

He watches the blush creep up Eliot's face even though his expression remains neutral. "Yeah...I uh. I heard you over the comms."

And now it's Hardison's turn to squirm. "So...is that what you like, Eliot?" He watched as Eliot peers at him out of the corner of his eye. "Cuz. Um. I can dig it."

Eliot stays quiet and Hardison can tell it's taking some effort to keep his eyes on the screen in front of him and Hardison is tired of him avoiding the conversation. He leans forward and pushes the power button on the remote. The room is bathed in a faint glow from the small table lamp in the corner of the room when the screen goes black.

"Eliot..." He turns so he's facing him now and Eliot is still not looking at him, his eyes are lowered, eying his fingers.

"Eliot. You've been avoiding me. And I know its because you don't wanna hear what you already know I wanna say to you."

"Hardison." He closes his eyes and drops his head against the back of the couch. "I can't..."

"Why not?"

Eliot exhales heavy, opening his eyes to pin him with a hard stare. "Because. You don't shit where you sleep, alright? I been down that road before. It don't end well." He shoves his hands through his hair. "So just let it go."

He pushes himself up off the couch and heads for the door. Hardison follows after him, grabbing his wrist and turning him back to face him. "What do you mean you been down that road?" Eliot's eyes are on his hand where its wrapped around his arm.

" _Eliot_..."

When he meets Hardison's eyes he sees pain and want and anger there and Hardison doesn't know what to do with that. He watches Eliot's eyes drop to his lips and he parts them, huffs short and silent when he feels Eliot move closer and he thinks...he doesn't know what he thinks because all brain functions evaporated when he inhales the scent of Eliot's hair, his skin, feels the cool of Eliot's breath just mere centimeters away from his mouth.

"Just trust me." Eliot whispers. "Everybody gets hurt." And he yanks his arm from Hardison's hold, slamming the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter to you. I hope you’re still there! Let me know what you think.

"So I was right." She breathes heavily in his face.

He's slightly dazed and having a hard time paying attention to anything with the way she's grinding her hips on top of him.

"Eliot really doesn't like us." She says, the crease between her eyebrows deepen.

He grunts when she does a particularly impressive swivel of her hips against his hardening cock.

They haven't actually had sex yet, but she's developed this fascination with rubbing her wet slit up and down the length of his dick. It really riles her up while it turns his brain into pudding.

"Nghhh... "Is all he can manage to put together at first so he grabs her hips tight and holds her still. She whines and her breath fans cool across his face when she huffs.

"Woman." He raises his eyebrows at her. "If you want me to have a coherent conversation with you right now. With you doin' all that. Then you've effectively lost yo' whole damn mind."

She tilts her head and frowns all pouty and put upon like she does when she thinks he's giving her an unjust punishment and it makes him go all gushy inside.

He squeezes her hips gently and softens his tone. "Babe. Just trust me. It's better this way."

He waits until the crease between her eyebrows smooths minutely before he realizes that its the best she's probably gonna give him, so he repositions her so her center is resting on his stomach now, just above his belly button, a much better position for restoring his brain functions.

She wiggles a bit and he feels her slick and hot against his abs and after a tense moment of consideration, she hums happily. "Okay. This works too."

Parker doesn't have much experience in the way of sexual penetration. Well if they're being technical about things, Hardison really doesn't have much experience in that area either. But where Hardison is lacking in numbers, Parker is lacking in mere interest in the idea. Parker likes to get herself off, quickly and in the most efficient way possible most of the time so she usually likes him to use his fingers to pinch her clit or sometimes she'll just ride his hand or his face to a strong, shuddering orgasm before hopping up to shower right after. He doesn't take it personally. He knows Parker tends to be energized after she comes, and she's never been much of a cuddler. Plus, she always makes sure he gets off too before she somersaults into the bathroom.

Hardison has been on both the giving and receiving ends of penetration and he enjoys the feeling of electric shock that comes from having his prostate pounded as much as he enjoys the lazy pleasure that comes from sliding into something warm and tight. And when these things are coming from someone he loves who loves him too, the experience is magnified by a factor of ten. His heart and mind feels just as fucked out as his body does.

So yeah, when Parker's with him like this, sometimes he wants to take her, push inside her and watch her slide down his length. Watch her paint his dick with her juices and hear her moan his name.

As if she was reading his mind, he hears her moan low as she wiggles on his stomach, trying to figure out the best way to get herself off. She's flushed red and her hair is all over the place but she looks relaxed and sated, completely naked and trusting, and he can't help be okay with this kind of intimacy too.

"Why doesn't Eliot want to be with us?" She asks, slightly breathy.

His fingertips trail up and down her ribs and she bites her lip.

"Parker. It's more complicated than that.”

"But why? You like me. I like you. We both like Eliot. So we should have fun times together. Simple." Her breath hitches when she rolls her hips and she's distracted for a moment. "That feels _good_. " She repeats the motion a few more times before she refocuses her eyes on his and she decides to pick up the conversation again. "Eliot is our crew. He chose to stay with us and be our protector. Shouldn't he want us like this too?"

He knows Parkers mind doesn't work like most. Well, none of them have a particularly conventional way of thinking, really. And even though Parker's brain is more alien than not, once he learned how to listen on her wavelength, she almost, always makes sense.

"Technically...yes, he should. But...Eliot doesn't really see things in the same way we do." He sighs. He wants to get this just right without upsetting her. "Eliot loves us. He wants to protect us...but I. I think he feels like taking things too far with us might put our crew in danger."

"He doesn't think he can love us right." She says it matter of factly.

He pauses. "I...yeah." Because although he hadn't thought about it like that, Eliot probably does feel that way.

Eliot welcomes danger, tempts fate, laughs death in the face. And with absolute and unwavering confidence, he does this on a daily basis. Putting himself in danger is about the only thing Eliot does free of hesitation, aside from cooking. And maybe its because Eliot is far more comfortable _giving_ himself rather than receiving. He's been used as a tool most of his adult life. Most of which, he received no thanks for.

"Well...we'll just have to show him then, wont we?" She smiles, pecks him on the lips. "Now shhh..."

She sits up and maneuvers so that she's sitting backwards now, facing his feet, her ass inches away from his face. He runs his fingers over all the skin he can reach while she circles her hips frantically against his stomach. The sound of her juices against his skin is music to his ears.

"Looks like you need some help too." Her voice barely above a whisper now.

She has a bottle of lube in her hand now, which appeared out of fucking thin air, because apparently Parker is magic. And before he knows it, his dick is all slicked up and shiny and she's working him with her long fingers and strong grip without breaking the rhythm of her hips.

He throws his head back and his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her ass as he helps her move. As her hips pick up pace, her fingers follow behind, stroking him quicker until his toes start to curl.

"Oh... _oh..._ here I come..." She squeaks as her hips start to stutter and she whimpers as her orgasm hits. He rubs his fingers up and down her spine as she shudders through wave after wave of post orgasmic bliss and when she finally catches her breath she redoubles her effort on his cock. Using both hands now and all of her attention focused on getting him off, she starts to twist her palms on the upstroke like he likes it, running her fingertips over the head to wet the slide down. It doesn't take long before his body starts to tense and when she sees the muscles in his thighs start to bulge she quickens her pace that much more. He's groaning in the back of his throat and gripping her hips almost painfully now.

"Fuck...I'm gonna come..." he grunts right before he erupts all over Parkers fingers.

" _Yes!"_ She whispers as she continues to stroke him slowly until his dick is spent, lying limp in her hands. "That was a good one." She chirps happily.

He's got his eyes closed and an arm thrown over his face. He feels Parker cleaning him up with a warm cloth and he's so over wondering how the hell she does these things without even moving. He mumbles what he thinks is a ' _thanks'_ when he feels the bed shake as she hops to the floor. He's already half asleep when he hears the shower start and he lets Parkers off beat humming lull him to sleep.

* * *

Eliot is always aware of his surroundings. Even in his sleep. He's laying flat on his stomach, the side of his face smushed into the St. Petersburg soft down feather pillows Hardison had bought everyone as house warming gifts when they'd finally decided that _this_ crew was it. And _this_ is what they'd wanted to do, so they'd all purchased apartments in Portland, their home base, to make it feel more official.

The air in his bedroom shifts. The slight disruption of new air entering a room full of stale air meant that his bedroom door was now open. He didn't move, didn't tense up or give any indication to the intruder that he was awake and aware and about to rip him to shreds in three...two...one...

He'd flips over and onto his feet in less than two seconds and has Hardison pinned against the wall. Eliot's chest against the hard line of his back. Eliot huffs out an irritated breath when he realizes who it is, flips him around to face him with his hands pressing hard against his shoulders.

Hardison's breath is coming out fast and shaky. He groans at the hard press of Eliot's fingers against his body. "Eliot..." he whispers.

"Damnit, Hardison." Eliot growls before he shoves him and steps away. "I told you not to _do_ that!"

Hardison raises his shoulders helplessly. "I'm sorry, man. I tried callin' but..."

Eliot walks over to his nightstand to grab up his phone and power it back on. He hears Hardison chuckle behind him and he turns to glare at him.

Hardison raises his hands a little, trying to placate him, walks over to have a seat on the edge of Eliot's bed, his jean covered knee brushing against Eliot's bare leg. That's when Eliot realizes how very...undressed he is and the way Hardison's eyes keep bouncing back and forth between his naked chest and his lips make him clear his throat and step back, awkwardly making his way to his closet to pull on a pair of blue jeans.

"Whaddaya want?" His tone holds hints of irritation and embarrasment as he pulls a black tshirt over his head before turning back around to face Hardison.

"I, um." He drops his head to scratch at the back of his neck before grabbing Eliot's eyes again. "We got a case. Parker needs you for some recon." He grabs Eliot's abandoned phone from the nightstand and tosses it to him before he stands. "I texted you the location."

Eliot eyes the coordinates before he pockets his phone. "Yeah...got it." And he turns toward the door.

"Eliot?"

The low tone of Hardison's voice makes him freeze in the doorway. He doesn't turn to face him but he can feel the sudden heat of Hardison's body radiating against his back now.

"Your earbud." And before he can overthink things he grabs up Eliot's hair and twists it up into the fingers of his right hand to tilt his head to the side. He thrills when he hears the quiet catch of Eliot's breath in the back of his throat, his jaw muscles twitching wildly as Hardison slips the earbud gently and securely into Eliot's ear before releasing him but not moving away.

Eliot drops his head, touches the earbud reflexively and heads toward the front door without another word.

SpaceTime Inc and Jansen Sky's were two competing aeronautics companies working to build the new wave of aircrafts using recycled materials that would lower production costs tremendously and double profits. When Walter Jansen found out that SpaceTime's developmental process had been way ahead of their curve, Jansen decided to take the easy way out and steal SpaceTime's harddrives.

Jansen's security system was a joke and it was all too easy for Eliot to take down the two... _two_ men _laughably_ guarding the front desk as so called security so that Parker could disable the alarms and plug Hardison in for remote access. After that, the con had been a cake walk.

Within fifteen minutes Hardison had stolen back SpaceTimes blueprints and for extra measure he'd planted one of his nastiest worms deep into Jansen's mainframe that would set them back to the Stone Age.

"We should celebrate!" Parker chimed in cheerfully when they were all back at Nate's place. Almost too cheerfully for Parker, if that's possible.

"Oh!" Sophie perks up from her position on Nate's armchair. "I hear there's a particularly pricey art exhibit at the Marmalade tonight."

"Um..well..actually." Nate cuts in, making his way over to stand in front of Sophie, pulling her up to a standing position. "Sophie and I have plans for our own celebration."

Sophie's cheeks flush as she eyes him. "We do?"

"Oh yeah..." He nods, tugging her against his side and leading her to the door.

Sophie giggles as she leans closer into Nate's side. "Okay then." She glances over her shoulder. "Rain check." She whispers to the rest of the crew.

"Y'all nasty!" Hardison yells just before they shut the door behind them.

Parker giggles when she hops up onto the kitchen counter and shoves a handfull of popcorn into her mouth. "Guess it's just us then." She pins Eliot with a glinty stare. "Eliot. I want your chicken tomato pasta. Will you make it?"

Hardison moans happily, drops his head back to rest against the arm of the sofa where he's lounging. "Oh my God, yes. And your sourdough garlic bread."

"Um, actually. I have a...a thing that I have to get to. So..." And he's slowly making his way to the front door and making a terrible attempt at seeming like he's not being an avoidy avoider.

Parker squeaks, all high and appalled as she drops her bowl of popcorn on the counter beside her and hops off the counter and stomps toward Eliot, who's got his fingers on the doorknob now.

She fists his tshirt in her fingers and turns him to face her. "Eliot!"

And he looks put off and slightly off guard. "What?! I got a thing."

She squints her eyes at him and slaps him on the shoulder. "There is no thing!"

At that point, Hardison decides to diffuse the situation before there's a thief/hitter showdown in Nate's foyer. He gets up off the couch and heads over to Parker, wrapping one of his arms around her waist. "Parker. If he says he has a thing. He has a thing." He looks at Eliot. His eyes soft. "Eliot wouldn't lie to us." And he tugs her toward the sofa.

"Fine." She pouts as she allows him to pull her away. She looks over her shoulder at Eliot. One hand still gripping the doorknob. "I just miss you." she says before turning back to plop down on the couch with Hardison.

Eliot hesitates. He turns the knob, cracks the door open before he pauses. He should just walk away. He needs to walk away. But against his better judgement he turns to look at them. Hardison sitting loose limbed on the couch with Parker tucked into his side, her head resting on his shoulder while they watch some shitty movie on the flatscreen and his belly lurches. He clears his throat and grimaces as they both turn their attention to him, eyes hopeful.

"Listen. I...I do have something I need to take care of but..." He looks away, licks his lips. "But...just meet me at my place in two hours, Okay?"

"Yay!" Parker cheers and wiggles on the couch.

Hardison tries to convey his gratitude when he locks eyes with Eliot again. Eliot's cheeks color and he gives Hardison a jerky nod as he heads out the door.

They show up at Eliot's place exactly on time. Hardison with some of his special brew and Parker with a container full of vanilla cupcakes with Fruity Pebbles as sprinkles.

"Just so you know, I am not eating those." He says to Parker as they step over the threshold into the apartment.

Parker just smiles at him before shoving the container into his arms. "It smells good in here." She inhales. "It smells like you." And she skips into the kitchen to probably taste test everything with the tip of her finger.

"Gotta love her." Hardison chuckles.

Eliot shakes his head as he shuts the door and follows them to the kitchen. Parker is already perched on the counter top chewing a piece of Eliot's garlic bread when Hardison sits the brew down beside her and leans against the counter.

"Need help with anything?" Hardison asks.

"Everything is pretty much done" Eliot says over his shoulder before he lifts the top off the simmering pasta to stir it a little before turning the heat off. "You can set the table, I guess."

Parker perks up, hops off the counter. "Ooh! Let's use the Mickey Mouse plates!"

Eliot pinches the bridge of his nose. "Parker-"

Hardison stops him with a hand to his chest. "It's no use, man. She's on a mission."

She's already in the dining area digging through the China hutch for the novelty Disney plates and matching cups she'd stolen from some shady collector ten years ago and Eliot decides that Hardison is right.

Once the table is set, Eliot loads each of their plates with pasta and Hardison sets a basket of garlic bread in the center. They all have a seat around the small round wood table and Parker is rubbing her hands together and eying the food like a maniac.

"Thanks, Eliot. This looks good, man." Hardison smiles as he picks up his fork.

Eliot just grins, awkwardly the way he does when any of them give him a compliment. Hardison hates that Eliot gets appreciation so rarely that he doesn't know what to do with it when he gets it. He decides that from this point on, he's gonna make a conscious effort to give this to Eliot until he gets sick of it. Eliot deserves to be appreciated, to know that he's appreciated, and loved.

Parker moans when she takes a bite of her pasta. "It tastes like family. And oregano."

Hardison chuckles and digs into his own plate.

After they've finished dinner, Hardison helps Eliot wash the dishes while Parker polishes off her cupcakes in front of the tv.

"You alright, El?" Hardison nudges him with his shoulder where he's standing beside Eliot with a dish towel, drying the plates Eliot washed.

Eliot glances at him before he refocuses on the plate in his hands. "Yeah. I'm good, why?"

Hardison shrugs. "I dunno. I just. You're...quiet." He reaches up to put the cups in the cabinet above his head. "Is this...I dunno...too much?"

Eliot shoves off the tap with more force than necessary and turns to face him. "This? What exactly _is_ this, Hardison?"

He throws the dish towel over his shoulder before turning to lean against the counter top. "Come on, Eliot." He keeps his voice low. "You know..."

"No, Hardison. I don't."

Hardison exhales, leans forward a bit. "Well. I've been trying to tell you _what_ this is for a while now. You won't sit still long enough for me to get anything out." He's gritting through his teeth now.

"Ain't you and Parker supposed to be...I don't know. Working on your thing? What do I have to do with that?"

Hardison's eyes drop to Eliot's lips and he licks them reflexively. "What if I said I wanted this to be a _we_ thing?"

Eliot's eyes go hard and he steps back. "We already talked about this, Hardison. You don't. You don't know what you're askin' for."

"Eliot..."

"No." Eliot hisses. You don't want this." And he leaves Hardison alone in the kitchen to finish the dishes.

When Hardison is done he heads in the living room to find Eliot sitting stiffly in the recliner sipping on his brew and staring at the tv. He catches Hardison's eye and Hardison sees sadness there. He looks away because it makes his heart ache to see that look on Eliot's face.

"Parker. Babe." He calls to her where she's half asleep on the floor, a half eaten cupcake still clutched between her fingers. "Come on, it's late. Let's get you to bed."

She groans. "Aw. But I'm comfy."

"Your bed will be much more comfy. Plus, I think Eliot's pretty tired, anyway." He glances at Eliot who's watching their exchange, a distant look in his eyes now.

Parker huffs but she starts to get up off the floor. She puts her unfinished cupcake back into the dish before closing the lid and leaving it on Eliot's coffee table. She tosses the pillow she'd been resting on back onto his couch before she slides her feet back into her sneakers.

Eliot walks them to the front door, standing awkwardly with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Hardison opens the front door before he turns and eyes Eliot. And he can't stop himself from moving forward and wrapping his arms around Eliot's neck. Eliot tenses minutely before he catches himself, wraps his arms loosely around Hardison's middle.

"Thanks, man." He whispers against Eliot's neck, his lips brushing against the warm skin there, making Eliot shiver. He lets his mouth rest there, deliberately breathing softly and making his desire evident. Eliot allows it for a beat before he moves back and shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. The skin of his face is blotchy and red and Hardison moves back, deciding that he's pushed Eliot enough for the night.

Parker, however, oblivious to non verbal cues, steps right up into Eliot's personal space and kisses Eliot right on the lips. Quick, there and gone, before she steps back and smiles. "Thanks for feeding us, Eliot."

His eyes are wide when they find Hardison's over Parkers shoulder but Hardison doesn't look angry in the slightest by what Parker just did. He actually looks...pleased. His eyes have gone darker, heated as he bites his bottom lip, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Uh, yeah. No problem." Eliot nods as he watches Parker grab Hardison's hand and lets him lead her out the door and down the hall.

Eliot shuts the door and leans back against it, shoving his hands up through his hair.

"Shit..."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Eliot’s POV so it’s a little darker. You’ve been warned. I hope you all are okay with the change of pace. Let me know what you think. Your input is my inspiration!!!

Eliot has never been in a real relationship. Unless that six-month fling he had with Aimee years ago could be considered an actual relationship. But even then, he still had to share her with her then fiancée. Aimee said she loved him, and he believed her. But she kept a body on reserve just in case. And apparently, she was right to do that too because his country called, and he went packing and four months later Aimee's fiancée turned into her husband.

Eliot will never be the one people commit to or settle down with. He's never been…permanent. He's always been that touch of danger that everyone craves once or twice…or ten times in their existence and when they've had their fix, they go searching for normalcy again.

He won't admit this out loud, but he's let the fact that he's been so easily disposable define him. He almost gets off on being used and discarded. He thrives on being the exact thing that someone needs at any point in time and he takes it very seriously, almost to a point of raw obsession when he's called to do a job whether it's a contract for hire or a simple pleasure call from his flavor of the week, or night, or hour, whatever. He gives all his jobs 100%. And he doesn't know if its because he's been taught to go hard or go home. Or if it's something deeper than that. Maybe he wants to be remembered. Maybe he wants to leave an impression. And just maybe…maybe he'll be good enough to be used again.

He knows his reputation and what's said about him. Crazy, unpredictable, uncontrollable, unbeatable, unkillable Eliot Spencer. Which is probably why people get as far away from him as they can after he's served them. Eliot is a liability. He's wanted in five countries and the number of bounties on his head is laughable at this point. Why would anyone stay close to him?

So when Damien Moreau came to him five years ago, five years before his new crew, and asked him to join him as own personal guard dog and retrieval specialist, he had been naturally weary of the situation at first. By that time, he'd finished a ten year stint with the Military and didn't know what the hell to do with his life after that. So he'd spent the remainder of his time taking odd jobs for some of the dirtiest criminals and government officials he'd ever come across.

Damien was the _Eliot_ _Spencer_ of the Mastermind world, in that, he and Eliot share the same reputation in their respective fields of expertise. And the number one rule for people like them was to stay under the radar and invisible. So why would he hire Eliot to be his first in command? That was like putting a bullseye right on his back. But then Moreau said something to him he'd never heard before.

"You need me as much as I need you, Spencer."

Eliot isn't allowed to need anything…or _anyone_ , especially. He's a tool. Tools don't have feelings and tools don't make their own decisions. Tools are wielded, given power by the hand that holds it. Who the fuck did this Moreau guy think he was dealing with?

"I don't need anyone." Eliot growled at him, adjusted his stance in case things got ugly.

The first time he'd met Moreau it had been at his private Vila in San Lorenzo. He'd had all exit points mapped out before he'd even knocked on the door. Aside from he and Moreau, he noted that there was a henchman guarding the North corner from the brush a few hundred yards away from the property.

The way Moreau smiled at him when he opened the door throws Eliot a bit because he'd managed to make it look boyish and sweet even though his eyes still held the stony glare of a ruthless criminal. Eliot managed to keep his face clear of emotion when he steps over the threshold to follow Moreau into the main living area and while Moreau is busy making up drinks at the drink cart, Eliot glances around, guestimates the area of the room and memorizes the amount of possible hiding places for weapons. His eyes are back on Moreau by the time he turns to face him, arm outstretched to hand him a glass tumbler.

"You know. Spencer, my boy." The way it rolls off Damien's tongue makes Eliot's stomach go uneasy. "I'm sure I have _something_ that can be of use to you." He hands Eliot the drink, the glint in his eyes calculating. Eliot grabs the glass from his hands, watches Damien's eyes go darker as their fingertips brush.

"I doubt that." Eliot grumbles, his tone holds steady as he turns away from Damien to face toward the open French glass doors to look out at the orange sunset and darkening of the oceans surface as the day comes to a close. The weird tingling sensation he feels over his left shoulder tells him that Damien has shifted slightly closer. Still not quite in striking distance and just outside of Eliot's peripherals so he trains his ears on Damien's movements while keeping his gaze outward, his stance relaxed. "Why are you bargainin' with me anyway, Moreau? I'll do whatever you want. For the right price, of course. You know how I operate."

He hears the fabric on Damien's cream linen sports coat shift, the light _clink_ of Damien's bottom teeth against his crystal tumbler and knows he just took a sip of his drink. After a brief pause, Damien picks up the conversation.

"I do. I know exactly how you operate, Spencer. Which is why…"

Eliot hears the light _thump_ of Damien's shoes as he takes two steps away from Eliot and to his right. Hears the slide of metal against wood as Damien slides the drawer to his small desk beside the sofa open and Eliot turns, covers the distance separating them in half a second and has Damien's wrist in an iron grasp still hovering over the desk drawer. Damien's other arm pinned behind his back and pressed against the hardness of Eliot's chest.

He makes sure to keep Damien pressed firmly against him and directly in front of the eyeline of the henchman he knows is trained on the both of them from outside.

"Easy, Spencer…" He relaxes a bit so that his back rests more loosely against Eliot's front. "You see, this stealth and this paranoia is _exactly_ why I _want_ you." He growls the last words like a sin and the hairs on the back of Eliot's neck tingle.

He wiggles the fingers of the hand still hovering above the desk drawer and Eliot slowly releases his wrist, keeping the other arm still tightly pinned behind his back. Damien hisses when he leans forward a bit too abruptly and the tendons in his shoulder begin to stretch and pull but Eliot doesn't let up.

"Down boy." Moreau purrs. "I just want to show you something…there, look." He nods to the open drawer.

Eliot notices the ceramic hunting knife first but the manila folder underneath catches his eye because his name is written in bold letters across the front of it. "What the fuck is this? You been spying on me?"

"You remember that _something_ I was talking about? That's it right there. Just open it." Moreau whispers the words sweetly. His breath coming out hot against Eliot's neck.

Eliot releases Moreau, shoving him for good measure, and grabs up the knife and pockets it before picking up the folder. He opens it slowly like he's afraid it will explode in his face and he stares down at the document uncomprehending at first. And then, it all starts to make sense.

It's a cease and desist order. And underneath is a list of all the bounties ordered against him. He looks up at Moreau , squints his eyes. "What is this?" He whispers.

Damien grins at Eliot, licks his lips slowly before moving over to stand in front of him. Very slowly, he reaches for the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a pen. "All you have to do, Spencer, my boy, is to sign your name right here…" he taps the pen against the page. "And all your bounties are dropped."

Eliot stays quiet, eyes him and waits for the punchline. And when it doesn't come, he exhales heavily. "Okay, what's the catch, Moreau?"

"Ah…the catch." He bites his bottom lip. Steps into Eliot's personal space. "The catch…is that if you sign your name on that document, you're also signing yourself over to me. You'd be _mine,_ Spencer _._ To wield as I see fit for as long as I see fit. And if you walk away before I'm done with you…this order is null and your head is a target again."

Eliot stares down at the signature line for a long moment. Thinks about the things he's done. The reasons that he knows he deserves these contracts on his head. Signing his life over to Moreau couldn't be any worse than any other crime he's already committed, right. But still. He can't help but ask.

"Whaddaya want me for?"

He thinks he's imagining the way Moreau's eyes grow darker until he steps up impossibly closer and leans in. And Eliot is almost certain that Moreau's gonna kiss him, feels his own lips part against his control. But Moreau's lips slide right past his own and settle against his earlobe. Eliot feels his chest rumble against his own when Damien speaks in a low voice. "I've got a few things in mind."

Eliot had assumed that he and Moreau would part ways and Moreau would just call him up whenever he needed him but he was wrong. He'd set Eliot up with his own room inside his main house in Boston. According to Moreau, he needed Eliot within arms reach at all times. The room was already stocked with everything he needed. Sitting in the middle of the California king sized bed at the far corner of the room is the go bag Eliot kept under his bed at his old apartment and he doesn't even want to think about how Moreau got that much intel on him.

Everything was all business at first. He'd send Eliot on retrieval jobs and ordered him on a few dozen hits and Eliot took pride in his job. Made sure he lived up to his reputation and each time he returned and saw the satisfied smile on Moreau's face, it made him feel slightly more whole again. Even as he etched the names of every one of his victims into his brain, he forces himself to call it par for course. Part of the job.

He and Damien had their first disagreement six months into their arangement. The FBI had been snooping around his operation for weeks but his alibies were air tight and he had the best of the best on his payroll. But one particular agent started sniffing a little close for comfort and Eliot had been given the task of making him go away.

"No, Moreau. Just...no. I'm not doing it. Put Erickson on it." Eliot didn't have a long list of don'ts. Really only two things. He vowed he'd never hurt anyone in the service or anyone in law inforcement. He hadn't broken that rule yet and he wanted to keep it that way.

"Spencer. You are my right hand. And you're my right hand for a reason." He steps closer. "But you also work for me. _Don't_...challenge my authority." He fixes Eliot with a hard glare. "His profile is in your office. I expect this problem to be gone by tonight." He turns to leave.

Eliot sighs. "I'm not doin' it Moreau. Do what you gotta do. But it aint happenin'"

When Damien turns back to face him, his eyes have gone cold. "What did you say?"

Eliot holds his ground. Looks him right in the eyes. "You heard me." The low grumble in Damien's chest doesn't sway him. "There's no-"

His sentence dies violently in his chest when Moreau barrels toward him. The rumble in his chest turning into a full on growl as he wraps his hand around Eliot's neck and slams him against the wall so hard that his head bounces off it and his vision blacks out for a second. Eliot hisses through his teeth, wraps both hands around Damien's wrist. " _Fuck_..." It comes out as a low groan.

"How... _dare_ you defy me!" Moreau spits the words against Eliot's mouth like venom. "I gave you a home. I gave you a job. I gave you my fucking _family_ , you ungrateful piece of shit. And I can take it all away in a heartbeat!"

The weight of his words hit Eliot like a punch to the gut. Because yes. All of it is true. Without Damien, he'd probably be sitting alone in his tiny studio apartment waiting on his phone to ring. Waiting to be useful. And because of Damien he doesn't have to wait anymore. Damien gave him purpose. He saw something in Eliot. Something good enough to make him first in command. And he's about to fuck that up just because of some fucked up moral code that isn't gonna save him from Hell anyway.

"You're mine, Eliot."

It's the first time he's used Eliot's first name and it makes him shiver. He watches a satisfied gleam flash in Damien's eyes as he steps closer. Presses himself against Eliot and he knows Damien can feel the hard press of his dick against his hip now. He closes his eyes and feels his face start to heat up as Damien breathes heavily against his lips.

"You're _mine_..." Damien whispers once more.

"I...I'm yours..." He whispers back. And it feels so good to surrender.

"Do...what you're _told_." He growls.

Eliot moans. His breath coming out short and choppy as he struggles to breathe against the hold Damien has on his throat.

"Yes sir." Eliot says.

Moreau purrs and Eliot finally opens his eyes. Damien's pupils are blown wide and the look in his eyes is borderline crazy as he chews on his bottom lip. He loosens his grip on Eliot's neck but doesn't release his hold. He just runs his thumb up and down against Eliot's carotid and thrills as Eliot pants against his mouth.

"That's my boy." He mumbles when he finally releases Eliot and steps a way from him and out of the room.

* * *

Eliot exits the shower. The memory of the mans blood splattered all over his shirt and hands flashes in his mind as he rubs the towel roughly over his body and hair trying to scrub himself clean. He'll never be clean.

He leaves the towel in a heap on the bathroom floor and pads into his bedroom. The soft carpet squishes between his toes as he makes his way to his dresser and pulls on the first pair of sweats he touches.

His motions slightly robotic as he moves toward his bed and collapses. The Egyptian cotton sheets feel wrong against his bare back and he just stares up at the ceiling, fighting to keep his mind blank.

He's floating somewhere between oblivion when he hears his bedroom door creak open. He doesn't have to look because he already knows its Moreau. His fingers twitch on his belly as be feels Damien move closer to him.

"Nice work today, Spencer."

And he hates himself for the satisfaction that ripples through his body at Damien's praise. He opens his eyes to find Damien looming over him. His eyes roaming Eliot's naked torso.

"With that being said." Damien continues. "I'm still not satisfied with the way you acted today."

Eliot sits up, swings his legs off the bed and bows his head. "I know."

Damien steps forward so he's standing in the space between Eliot's legs and Eliot tilts his head up, confusion evident in his expression.

"Your mouth almost got you in a world of trouble today." Damien tisks. "Maybe we should find a way to keep you quiet."

"I..." Eliot shakes his head. "I did what you asked."

"Shhhhh...Quiet, Eliot."

Damion moves to remove his jacket and Eliot's breath catches as he watches him toss it on the bed beside Eliot before rolling up the sleeves on his white button down, reclaims his position between Eliot's spread legs.

"We need to put that mouth to better use."

Eliot finally gets it when Damien starts to unbuckle his belt. " _Shit_." He whispers.

Damien grins down at him as he undoes the button to his trousers and slides his zipper down. "You're _mine_ , Eliot. That mouth is mine." He moves to brush Eliot's hair off his face, closing his hand into a fist to trap the strands of hair between his fingers to yank Eliot's head back to catch his eyes. "Make it up to me."

Damien uses his free hand to free his already hard cock from his pants and Eliot damn near chokes on his tongue when he smells the tangy musk of Damien mere inches from his mouth.

"I..." Eliot chokes out.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Damien grits through his teeth.

Eliot shudders violently and Damien's gaze goes predatory.

Damien loosens his grip when Eliot lowers his head and licks his lips before leaning forward and taking Damien's dick in his mouth.

Damien groans low in his throat as Eliot slides his lips over his shaft. "That's it." He's stroking Eliot's hair softly now as Eliot finds his rhythm, circling his tongue against the thick vein under his dick while he takes him deeper.

Damien tilts his head back and exhales heavily through his mouth. "You're gonna choke on me." He growls. "Remember the hard press of me in the back of your throat the next time you even _think_ about disobeying me."

He grips Eliot's hair tighter and pushes himself deeper into the warm heat of Eliot's mouth until he hits the back of his throat.

Eliot's eyes start to water as he fights against his gag reflex. All he wants is to please the man who gave him _everything_.

He swallows over and over around Moreau's dick and groans when he hears his name tumbling from his boss's mouth. He can't breathe and he doesn't want to. He deserves this. So he works Moreau's dick like a pro, his mouth numb and his throat sore but he doesn't care.

His eyes find Moreau's when he tugs on his hair and he's drowning in his gaze.

"I want you to swallow my come. Don't waste a drop."

Eliot feels him tense, his fingers tightening almost painfully in the hair at the base of his neck, and half a second later he feels Damien spilling in hot spurts all over his tongue and he moans as he swallows it down almost eagerly.

"So good, Eliot. So good."

He cleans Damien up with his tongue, licks his lips as he pulls back and tucks him gently inside his pants.

"Good boy. That's my good boy." He pats Eliot on the head and steps back, watches as Eliot preens at the praise.

He tucks his shirt back into place and buttons his pants before he leans over to grab his jacket.

"Never disobey me again." He fixes Eliot with a hard glare before standing back up straight.

"Yes sir." Eliot whispers, bowing his head.

He doesn't watch as Damien exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

That wasn't the last time he and Damien engaged in sexual activities either.

Eliot isn't new to this sort of thing, being in the military and all. Day after day spent with the same men, living in each others pockets. It gets lonely and desperate and after a while he started to crave that touch. The closeness and the intimacy becomes a need so strong that it almost consumes every thought.

He remembers his first time. His troop had been camping out in the desert, pressed so close that he could smell the breath of the men to his left and right. He'd thought he'd been the only one awake, staring up at the stars and the need was driving him insane. It had been approaching a year since he'd had the press of another body against his own and he couldn't take it anymore.

He'd shoved his hands into his pants, intent on getting it out, quick and quietly, shoving the fingers of his other hand into his mouth to muffle the noises bound to slip from his throat.

He was so close that he could taste it. Closing his eyes and relaxing against the rough terrain, he was aching for it.

He felt a shift to his left and froze. His orgasm halted. Harris. Fucking Harris. Chatty little guy, still wet behind the ears. Of course.

"You're doing it wrong." Harris whispered against his ear.

"Jesus, Harris. Shut up, would ya." Eliot growled at him.

"It's alright man. Just let me..."

Eliot turned his head to meet his wide eyes and there wasn't a hint of humor in the mans stare. He was dead serious and Eliot could do nothing about it. He didn't even want to.

He felt Harris' fingers as they tripped over his own, batting his hands away from his own dick. Eliot's whole body twitched when he felt Harris' long fingers wrap around his aching dick.

"You gotta do it slow, see? Savor it." He demonstrates by sliding his fist long and slow down Eliot's length.

Eliot chokes on a grunt and Harris buries his face against Eliot's shoulder to muffle his laugh.

Eliot huffs, ready to shove him away until Harris moves his hand again, gently stroking him up...and down...and up again. He spreads his legs and lets it happen. It feels so damn good.

Harris hums against his ear. "Damn, El. Relax."

"Fuck." Eliot whispers to the stars, closes his eyes and exhales. Allows himself to savor this.

Harris strokes him slowly and carefully until he spills all over his fingers. He wipes Eliot's come on his own shirt and grins. "Our secret." He whispers before he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes.

Eliot can only admit to himself that he does need. He does _want_. He needs to be wanted, to be desired. He craves it. So when Moreau invited him into his bed over and over again he willingly accepted. It was the first time in his life that he felt worthy of someone elses touch. Even if that touch wasn't always gentle. Maybe he deserved a little abuse, a little torture. So when Moreau would tease him and watch him as his dick painfully tented his jeans aching for release he took it. He waited for Moreau to give him permission for release. He'd learned to follow Moreau's orders without question because he knew his reward would come soon after.

Eliot is fucked up. He knows that. Which is why he rejected Hardison when he found out what he wanted from him. Eliot isn't right. He can't taint Hardison. He can't do that to his crew. Hardison is good. Parker is good, she's weird as all hell, but she's good. He can't put his problems on them. He won't. But they deserve to know why. He owes them that much at least.

He sighs, rolls over to grab his phone off the nightstand.

 _I'm_ _ready_ _to_ _talk_.

He sends a quick text and drops the phone on the bed beside him. It's 2am and he doesn't expect them to be awake but then he feels his phone vibrate almost immediately and grabs it up.

 _Come_ _over_... is the reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don’t know why I had so much trouble writing this chapter guys. Sorry it took so long. I hope you’re still here. I never found a beta so all mistakes are still my own. I hope you like my conclusion! Let me know what you think!

Eliot is sitting on Hardison's sofa. His head back against the cushions, eyes closed. Parker is on her kness on the floor in front of him, between his spread legs. She hasn't said anything...or taken a breath as far as he can tell since he's given them the whole story about why he just...can't with them. He'd think she's gone catatonic if it weren't for the little tickle of her fingertips fiddling with the hem of his jeans and shoelaces this entire time.

He feels the heat of Hardison next to him. One of his thighs pressing against his own, tense and foreboding. He's been subtly pressed against Eliot all night. Subtle enough to pass as accidental if Eliot didn't know him so well.

Eliot feels like he's gone 12 rounds and all he's done is spill his guts. Flay himself raw for two of the five people he's let into his heart since the war. His energy is gone.

"Damn...Eliot. We...we didn't know. How could we not _know_? I'm sorry, man"

Hardison has been repeating the same thing, over and over, in different variations and octaves for two hours and Eliot just doesn't have it in him anymore to tell him that it's not them. It's _him._

He exhales heavily through his nose. Feels Hardison tense beside him and he just can't. Won't keep doing this. He doesn't know how else to explain it. He knows Hardison has a tendency to take the world on his back. Take responsibility for every problem the world holds. He knows Parker is all rationality. That she feels like if she's let someone into her heart and they still have secrets, what the fuck was the point?

But he was stuck. Either he had to tell them or he had to keep them at a distance.

Hardison doesn't do distance and Parker doesn't do secrets. Catch 22.

"Why didn't we know, Eliot?"

Parker's voice grates against his eardrums. It's all monotone with no inflection because Parker doesn't know subtle. It's all or nothing with her.

Eliot grinds his teeth together, exhales heavy before he peels his eyes open, lifts his head to look at her. The minute his eyes catch hers, he regrets it. Her face is blank, completely void of anything. But her eyes. Her goddamn eyes. So much pain. And...fuck...guilt. The last thing he wanted was to make them feel guilty about what he'd been through. He just needed them to understand. Why cant they just understand?

He clears his throat and runs his palm over his face before he leans forward. Parker doesn't flinch so he's putting that in the plus column. He thinks about touching her. Just resting his hands on her shoulders to ground her. Or maybe to ground himself. He doesn't know anymore. His brain is useless at this point. Instead, he rests his forearms against his own thighs, clenches his fists because he cant trust his body right now. He forces himself to meet Parker's eyes again. He feels Hardison shift closer to him, feels like a fucking furnace next to him.

"Parker. Look..." His voice cracks and he hates himself. "You didn't know because I didn't tell you." He chews on his tongue and tries to hold eye contact with her. "I'm...I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He turns to look at Hardison. "I'm sorry to both of you."

And he is sorry. He's sorry that he has to say no to them. He's sorry that he can't give in to what he wants. Being trapped between them like this is all Eliot wants. Forever. But he'll take it any way he can. And right now they need him to be their Hitter. Not their lover. And he won't deny them that.

Hardison is already shaking his head before Eliot finishes the sentence. "No. Eliot. You don't need to apologize for nothin' man. We..." He pauses, catches himself and shakes his head before he continues. "I... shouldn't have pushed..."

The conversation has been going in circles and Eliot can feel it about to make another lap and he's tired so he stays quiet.

He doesn't tell Parker that its not her fault...again. He doesn't tell Hardison that he's glad they pushed him because if he says those things, it would open up a whole other can of worms that he's not ready to deal with right now.

Fuck. He finally allows himself to bow his head, let it hang heavy and loose between his shoulders, and shove his fingers through his hair. It's so much longer than he's used to letting it grow and his fingers get tangled in the strands at the back of his neck. He balls his hands into fists and just tugs on the hair at his nape while he exhales through his nose.

He can feel Hardison shift beside him but he doesn't lift his head. He feels Parker's fingers slide up and wrap around his calves. They're tense and they know he's about done.

Eliot can feel the warmth of dawn sneaking up over the horizon now from the window across from him and...Jesus, how long has he been here? He needs space, air, a gallon of whiskey and a month of sleep right now.

Hardison senses his impending exit because he feels his hand fly up to grab his shoulder before he's even had a chance to move. The first time Hardison has deliberately touched him all night and he flinches. The motion unnoticeable to anyone else. But not Hardison. Hardison knows him too well and he jerks his hand back like he's been burned. Eliot hears him stutter and catch himself on the apology that wants to escape his lips.

He's so finished with this night...morning...what the fuck ever.

He shoves himself up off the sofa and Parker slides back to give him some room. Her face is all hurt kitten sad and he looks away, chews on his lower lip and carefully slides himself out of the space Parker trapped him in between the couch and herself.

"El..." He hears Hardison choke out.

He doesn't turn to them. There is no way he can look at them now and then walk away.

"Look. Just give me a couple days, okay? I'm not runnin'...I promised you that a long time ago." He says, still facing away from them. "I just need...time."

He hears them shuffling around and their heavy breathing behind his back. He pictures Hardison pulling Parker up off the floor to pull her against him on the couch.

"Yeah..." Is all Hardison offers so he takes that as permission to go. He forces his feet to fucking _move_...move to the exit, and when he finally gets his hand on the doorknob it feels cold in his grasp. He opens it and steps through, shutting the door carefully behind him.

* * *

Things are weird. Too fucking weird and it makes Eliot's skin crawl. Parker and Hardison act like there's some invisible five foot barrier around him that they can't cross.

He sees the forlorn looks that Hardison shoots his way when he thinks nobody is paying attention.

When he's briefing the team for their next case, Eliot notices Hardison's eyes bouncing around the room. Landing on everyone but him. But Eliot guesses that if he has to pick between that, or what Parker is doing to him, then he'd much rather have the former.

Parker just stares at him, open and free, not giving a shit if he's watching her or not. He can never tell if she's angry or sad or just thinking about squirrels. Whatever it is, it makes him want to jump out of a window.

Their next job lands them in DC. It was supposed to be a simple grab and go, so Nate and Sophie decided they weren't needed on this particular case. How convenient.

It had started off simple enough though, so Eliot guesses their instincts weren't too far off.

They'd swiped the $12 million in art and artifacts that Castleman had stolen from the downtown exhibit like they were supposed to. And Parker had gotten an extra $50 million or so in diamonds from Castleman's personal safe for good measure. All they had to do was drop the diamonds off to be sent to Hardison's NaNa's church in Georgia and they would be on the next flight to Portland.

But then Sergeant Holden called him. Eliot hadn't heard from him since he'd left the Army and started taking rouge jobs. If Holden was calling his line, Eliot knew it had to be heavy shit.

He could have just ignored the call and hopped on a plane but he had responsibilities now. His conscience ate at him now. Nate and Hardison and Sophie and Parker. They all got under his skin and he couldn't just ignore injustice anymore.

But he also didn't want to put his crew in danger so he tried to make them go and leave him behind to handle it. But of course they didn't listen. Because when the fuck have they ever?

So here they are, knee deep in some psycho terrorist bullshit and Eliot has to protect them while protecting the world.

Some asshole, Ahmed, wants to release a deadly flu virus in downtown DC to prove to the government how wrong they were for doubting his beliefs on terrorism.

How fucking ironic.

Hardison is spiraling and Eliot can see it a mile away. "You scared?"

"You damn right!" Hardison spits back at him.

"Well I'm not." If there is ever a time to be honest, Eliot feels like this is it. "I got the best thief..." He nods at Parker, watches her blush. Parker never blushes and it makes his insides turn into lava. He peels his eyes away from her and focuses on Hardison. "...and the smartest guy I know, chasing this guy." He watches Hardison chew on his bottom lip. He can tell Hardison still isn't with him. His eyes are wandering and his breathing is erratic. Eliot grips his neck and pulls him close, forces Hardison to meet his eyes. "You're the smartest guy I've ever known, Hardison...and I need that brain...to get me to him. 'Cause you know if I lay my hands on him...it's done." He feels the fingertips of Hardison's left had brushing against his hip. He pulls Hardison in until their foreheads are touching. "Get me to him..." He whispers against Hardison's lips.

They never even had a chance to come up with a con. This all just fell in their laps and Eliot is kinda terrified. He can't even remember the last time he's been terrified.

Well...he's lying.

Hardison being buried alive scared the shit out of him. And then before that, it was Hardison sitting on a car bomb.

Hardison seems to be the source of his anguish lately and he can't figure out why the fuck he let this shit happen to him.

Parker has just picked the lock to Dr. Everett Udall's place because he's the only lead they have so far on this Ahmed coward and Eliot hears a very distinctive _click_ as Hardison steps through the threshold.

"Eliot... _Eliot_...?" Hardison is frozen on the spot. One foot on the dummy wooden plate on the floor and the other foot on the concrete outside. Eliot can feel the muscles in Hardison's back tense where he's got his fist clenched in his coat.

And now Eliot has another thing to add to his list of most unpleasant moments. And look at that...Hardison has the starring role in this one too.

"I have an idea." He hears Parker's voice, surprisingy steady beside him.

Usually, he'd immediately tense up because Parker's good ideas usually include very bad things but at this point, he doesn't have anything better. So when Parker starts to climb Hardison, Eliot follows her lead and makes sure he holds her legs steady around Hardison's waist with one hand and makes sure he holds Hardison steady with his left hand firmly against his thigh.

Hardison is shaking under his fingertips and Eliot squeezes just a bit to let him know that he's got him. Eliot wont let him fall. He hears Hardison's exhale and it makes him chew on his tongue.

Parker disarms the bomb and they all drop to the floor.

Hardison grabs on to his wrist and fucking won't let go. "So we're thinkin..."

"...Udall is Ahmed..." Eliot finishes for him. And if he's breathless, he'll blame it on the fucking bomb that almost blew them to shreds.

Eliot can't get over how well they all just bounce off one another. Hardison's brain to Eliot's hands to Parker's logic just all play so fucking perfectly together.

They have Udall's notes and plans in under two hours and they have to do is find him.

* * *

They have to stay another night in DC because they missed the last flight out and there is no question that they all share a room because Eliot is hurt and Hardison is shaken and Parker needs everyone to be in arms reach.

The room has one king sized bed and a sofa bed in the main area. Eliot can hear Parker and Hardison mumering behind the bedroom door while he peels off his bloody tshirt on the couch.

He knows they're probably in there comforting each other, stripping off their sweaty clothes and settling in, while he's just sitting alone, nursing his own wounds and he hates himself for letting this case fuck with his mind.

When Udall shot him in the shoulder after they'd ID'd him on the train, he didn't even feel the blow. But when he heard Parkers startled inhale and Hardison's pained groan behind him it was like a punch to the gut.

Eliot had taken Udall down easily after that, limping back to Hardison where he was hovering over the bomb, attention divided between disarming it and Eliot's bloody arm.

"Damn, man...you alright?" One of Hardison's hands outstretched to help Eliot to the floor of the train.

"Disarm the bomb." Was all Eliot could offer before dropping to his knees next to him.

And Hardison had no choice. His brain with Parkers strength saved the world again. And Eliot could feel nothing but satisfaction as he watched Hardison grab Parker and kiss her like it was their last.

"Eliot" The low timbre of Hardison's voice rips him out of his own head and he turns, stands from the couch, cradling his injured arm in his hand.

"That looks like it needs to be tended to." Hardison nods to the bloody bandage sloppily wrapped around his shoulder.

"I was just gettin' to it."

Eliot heads over to the table in the corner of the room and shuffles through his duffle for the first aid kit. He hopes its enough to send Hardison back in the room with Parker. A man can dream, right?

"Eliot. You can't do that by yourself, man...just let me..."

He turns to find Hardison a mere three feet from him now, his hand outstretched.

Eliot thinks about fighting him on it but decides it would just drag this whole thing out longer than neccessary. So he shoves the kit in Hardison's hand and just waits for him.

Hardison just smiles at him affectionately and shakes his head, stepping forward and opening the box to grab the needed supplies before directing Eliot to sit on one of the stools at the bar.

He's standing between Eliot's spread legs and Eliot is trying his best to focus on anything but Hardison's bare torso in his face while he works on removing the bloody bandage from Eliot's shoulder and applying a clean one.

Hardison chuckles low and Eliot glares at him. "What?"

"Nothin'...I'm just thinkin' about how hard we rocked today."

Eliot scoffs and it only makes Hardison's grin grow wider. "Stop fightin' it, man. We make a hell of a team."

Hardison wraps the clean bandage securely around Eliot's shoulder, his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth while he focuses on securing it with a metal pin and Eliot has to grit his teeth and focus his eyes past Hardison to glare at the cheap coffee maker in the kitchen.

"Good as new." Hardison smiles, admiring his own work.

Eliot brushes his fingers lightly over the bandage before he grabs Hardison's eyes. "Yeah...uh. Thanks."

Hardison nods but doesn't step away. Just stands there staring at him like he's waiting for something and Eliot doesn't have the slightest idea of what the hell he wants.

Eliot leans back, rests his elbows against the bar behind him and tries hard not to fidgit. "What is it?"

He watches Hardison falter, lick his lips, and let his eyes rake over Eliot's bandaged shoulder and across his naked chest. "I dunno man, I just. We thought we lost you today, Eliot"

Eliot exhales, shakes his head. Tries to plaster on his most reassuring smile. "Well...ya didn't."

He nudges Hardison aside with his thigh and hops up off the stool and turns to gather up the supplies to put them back in the kit. Hardison doesn't let up, ends up pressed against him and breathing down his neck.

Eliot slams the box closed and shoves it back into his bag before he turns, almost nose to nose with Hardison now.

"What are you doin'? I'm here man. I'm fine. Just...just back off."

He must be losing his touch because Hardison doesn't seem put off in the least by his irritation.

"Eliot..." Hardison's tone makes his belly drop. "I tried...I swear I've been trying." He steps closer. "I know you said you needed time...and...and space but..." His hand hovers over Eliot's shoulder. "We could have lost you today and I..." He drops his hand to his side. "I just can't anymore..." He moves closer still, caging Eliot between himself and the bar top.

"Hardison..." Eliot tries.

"You gotta stop me, man. I...I can't. You gotta make me stop." He buries his hands in Eliot's hair and Eliot shivers, almost violently, closes his eyes.

"Eliot...please..."

And that's all the warning he gets before Hardison's lips are on his, soft and gentle at first, a low, agonizing groan escaping his lips and any sense of self control Eliot held onto before is gone. He opens up and lets Hardison in. He feels Hardison tangle his fingers tighter in his hair, tilting his head and depending the kiss. His tongue slips easily into Eliot's mouth and it's instantly wetter, hotter...dirtier.

Hardison is pressed fully against him now, the countertop digging into Eliot's back and the hard press of Hardison's dick against his hip.

For a stone cold killer, Eliot's lips are the softest, sweetest thing he's tasted aside from Parker's and he's instantly addicted.

"Come to bed with us." Hardison huffs against his lips. "Please..."

"Fuck..." Eliot whines. "Yeah...yes..."

And it's all a mess of hands and lips as they wrestle each other to the bedroom. They knock over an end table and shatter a lamp on the way but Hardison finally gets him there, shoves Eliot through the bedroom door and against the wall.

Eliot rips his lips away from Hardison's, ignoring his frustrated growl. when he spots Parker exiting the en suite bathroom, her cheeks flushed and a startled look on her face.

"You...?" She looks at Hardison. "He wants us?"

"Eliot?" Hardison huffs in his face, eyebrows raised, like Eliot really has a choice at this point.

"I want you...yes...I want you both. Any way you'll have me."

He doesn't even have time to feel embarrassed about his confession because Hardison is back on him, eating at his lips and scraping his fingernails down his abdomen.

He ends up on the bed with his back against Parker's chest, pressed against her soft breasts where she's sitting up against the headboard, both of her legs draped over his arms and pinning them to the bed.

"Is this okay, Eliot?" She's breathless the way she almost never is and he's drunk off of how okay this all is.

"Hell yeah"

She's brushing her fingers through his hair and he's trembling, watching Hardison drop his sweats and crawl onto the bed to settle between his legs. He can't believe he can have this.

Hardison runs his hands up Eliot's thighs and dips his head, peers up at Eliot under hooded eyes. "Can I?"

Eliot groans and has to shut his eyes before he comes right there. "You can do whatever you want...I...I'm yours."

He hears Parker moan behind him, running her hands over his chest now and he does't have a second to breathe before Hardison is swallowing him down. He cries out, tries to raise his hips off the bed but Hardison pins him down with one arm across his torso while he tongues at his dick.

"Fuck...do it slow, Hardison...nghh...make me wait for it..."

Parker huffs behind him, her nails digging into his chest and he can't help the agonizing groan that escapes his lips.

His arms are still pinned underneath Parker's legs and Hardison is holding him in place between them and he doesn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

Hardison runs his tounge up and down the thick vein on the underside lf his dick while he bobs his head slowly up and down his length and Eliot is writhing beneath him, desperate to come.

"Hardison...please..."

"Nah, Eliot. You said to make you wait...I'm gonna make you wait..." Hardison pulls his mouth off slowly with an obscene pop, grins. "What do you think, Parker?"

Eliot can feel her circling her hips behind him, the slick of her heat against his back. "I wanna see you ride him."

"Shit..." Eliot whispers.

"Mmm...I've always loved the way you think." Hardison drawls as he lifts up and grabs the lube Parker hands him from the bedside table.

He slicks Eliot up before straddling him. He leans over Eliot to give Parker a quick kiss before leaning down to give Eliot the same. Eliot lifts to catch Hardison's lips eagerly before dropping his head back against Parker's chest.

When Hardison lowers himself down on him, Eliot has to bury his fists on the sheets and grit his teeth. Hardison is so tight and hot and Eliot knows he won't last much longer.

"Ohhh my God, Eliot, fuck." Hardison groans as he impales himself on Eliot's dick. The look on his face is pure bliss and Eliot can't help the sense of pride he feels that they've found another way to use him.

"That looks so hot, baby. How does it feel?" Parker's pinching his nipples and her hips are circling almost frantically behind Eliot now.

"So good, Jesus. So fucking good." Hardison is full of Eliot now and he's moving slowly, so agonizingly slow. "He's so big, babe. I gotta see you take this one day."

"You mean Eliot fucks me while you fuck him? Like we talked about?" Parker breathes

"Christ..." Eliot grits and shoves his hips up, burying himself deeper inside Hardison, making him gasp, throwing his head back.

"Shit..." Hardison moans. "Eliot...so many things were gonna do to you..."

His dick twitches inside Hardison at that and he's so gone that he starts too lose track of everything. They're all moaning and grinding and Hardison is bouncing on him like a pro and he can't do anything but take it.

He's so blissed out that he doesn't realize he's on the edge until it's too late.

"Fuck...fuck, Hardison...I'm gonna..."

"Do it." Both Parker and Hardison speak at the same time.

"Come for us, Eliot." Parker whispers.

And he does.

His whole body tenses and he shuts his eyes tight as his orgasm hits him. It feels so good that it's almost painful. He's moaning and he doesn't even care that he's babbling nonsense because this is the closest he's ever been to perfection.

He can hear Hardison screaming above him, feel the hot spurts of his come splattering against his stomach and chest.

He can feel Parker's fingertips smearing Hardison's come into his skin as she runs her fingers over his chest, and rides out her orgasm as he feels her pulsing against the skin of his back.

When he can finally open his eyes, Hardison is limp on top of him, breathing heavily against his neck. He can hear Parker giggling softly above them.

"That was good." She huffs.

Hardison makes a noise of agreement and Eliot can't feel his legs.

"Ok...sticky...shower time..." Parker says after a few minutes and she starts to shove at them both.

Eliot groans and Hardison tries to help pull him off of her before she does any damage. "Easy, woman...fragile bits here."

He manages to tug Eliot over so that Parker can slide out from underneath them and head to the bathroom and they both just sprawl back onto the bed, limbs tangled together.

When Hardison hears Parker start the shower he rolls closer so that he can see Eliot's face. He brushes the hair back off of his forehead and rests his hand in the crest of his neck. "Hey...you good?"

Eliot looks at him, his eyes are unreadable for a terrifying moment before he blinds Hardison with a smile that makes him melt. "Yeah...I'm good. And he leans over and kisses Hardison slow and soft.

* * *

Eliot wakes slowly, the sun shining against his closed eyelids. It takes him a second to remember where he is but the familiar smell of Hardison's Armani cologne and Parkers peach shampoo bring him right back. He wonders if he should still be here. If this is still okay. If he fucked up the only real connections he's ever had.

He feels Parker shift beside him, her hand comes up to rest on his chest, over his heart. Hardison's legs are tangled with his own on his other side. His hand comes up to rest over Parker's before he nuzzles his face against Eliot's neck. "We got our hitter." Hardison whispers in his ear.

Eliot feels Parker shaking with laughter beside him and he can't help but smile.

"Damn it, Hardison.


End file.
